Friday, April 22, 2011

At Home in Georgia

Why did I go to Georgia?

Well, it was the warmest place I could get to for $78.

Yep. That was the cost of my flight. Scan this site regularly if you love bargain basement flying.

Then, the car was $15 a day.
Bid on PRICELINE for the Economy Class, never more than $15 on your first bid. You'll usually get the car.

When you arrive at your destination, ask for a free upgrade and they'll often give one, because they run out of the cheap cars.

Another great deal: I got a Day's Inn room in Dahlonega, Georgia for $30 flat a night.
Use Hotels.com and sort by price. Sometimes Booking.com beats 'em but not often.

Why Dahlonega? It's at the base of the Appalachians. I'll explain what took me there in my next post.

In the meantime, see the view I got from my $30/night room.

When I opened the door and saw that amazing picture window, I squealed with delight!
Naturally, I had expected a rat hole.

The view was worth $1oo a night, even tho it was a regular Day's sort of place in every other respect.
I stayed there for the majority of my trip.

Soooo, I justified spending my last three nights in B&Bs. I selected ones that were in real plantation manors.

My first night was at "The Colonels Plantation" in Athens, Georgia.
Both the husband and wife are retired colonels. Colonel Mark took my photo just before I headed off to church.

This spread was the Fair Haven Plantation in Arnoldsville, Georgia.

What a joy to sit out on the balcony, listening to a banquet of bird songs that were completely different than Utah bird songs.

With encouragement from my generous host, I hung around for most of the day, absorbing a bit of paradise.

Holly Court Inn was my last stop in Washington, Georgia.
In this sweet town, many manors date back to the 1700s, including the first photo in this post.

I highly recommend all three of these B & Bs. They exceeded my expectations . Additionally, my hosts provided me with the fascinating histories of their homes and communities. Two of them played a role in the Civil War.

I probably look like a loner in the photo below, taken at the Washington B & B.

Actually, I wasn't alone. My host joined me at the breakfast table and we chatted about racial issues in Washington where there are approx. 2000 whites, 2000 blacks. Basically, he believes that people have learned how to get along much better than they did 50 years ago. Phil was old enough to KNOW.

Since forever, I've wanted to attend Southern African -American service, both for the unique, intense preaching style and the fervent gospel music. This trip was my opportunity! After asking around, I was led to the Springfield Baptist Church in Athens, which was established in the 1800s. Wow! What an amaaaaazing experience!!! See the church's history here.

FOR THOSE INTERESTED IN THE EXPERIENCE: I was the only Caucasian attending the Springfield Sunday service, but I was treated as a long-lost family member, hugged warmly by at least two dozen members of the congregation and the preacher himself. The music was indescribably beautiful. The call and response, praise and worship style of the traditional Negro gospel music is so full of emotion. The choir or sometimes a single vocalist started the hymns and then the congregation would sing the refrains. Many worshipers rose to their feet, swaying their arms, and even dancing in place. The minister at Springfield gave a rousing sermon. Here's a bit of the history of the "Negro Preaching Style" which perfectly describes my experience at Springfield: "The black sermon is stated in the vernacular, with inflection and timing so musical that many have compared it in style to improvised jazz. Much of the sermon is improvised. . . . This (style) is assured in part by the congregation, which answers the preacher verbally at every opportunity, creating a call-and-response pattern, which often builds to a frightening intensity." (Reference - here.)

The South isn't called the Bible belt for nothing. And there are still "Revivals" in Georgia.

I found this sign at the entrance of a cafe.

Can you read the small print which states that the Revival would be FOUR DAYS LONG?!

Most Southerners are Baptists and their churches are everywhere, but other Christian sects DO exist.

I only saw one Episcopal church and it was distinctive enough to get the street behind it named thus:


The streets in Georgia were named BEFORE developers got that honor, so they usually carry a bit of history. Like this one:

Don't know this particular bit of history, but one could venture a guess.

Vestiges of bygone times are rusting in overgrown vineyards . . .


Many of homes from the 1800s are still occupied and still show loving care.


Just about every home has a front porch with rocking chairs.

Even the not-so-nice ones:


However, there's a different genre of home, up in the "hollers" of the Appalachians:

Do you notice that the first trailer is attached to the home? They gave up the effort with the second one.

Okay. This is a crummy photo.

I got spooked because some hound dogs started barking at me just as I was taking this shot.
I drove away rather quickly, anticipating a shirtless guy with a beer can in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

There are lots of hound dogs in Georgia, because hunting is BIG.


When I saw this sign, I thought "Boar? Huh?"

Well, apparently the Conquistadors brought over boar in the 1500s and they still roam wild in Georgia.

Photo courtesy of blackcreeklodge.com
Possum hunting is a favorite Southern pastime and this little cafe proves it.
When I entered, I realized that I simply couldn't eat there. However, I bought an ice cream to be friendly.


I passed on the Poss-umm, and chose to eat at Big Chick.
Yes, two very big chicks were frying up chickens, a more common main dish than hamburgers at "fast food" diners.


The fried chicken was a whole lot better than KFC. It was served with okra or fries, you choose.

BTW, here's a little highlight from the Big Chick's menu board:


"GIZZADS" is the Southern way of pronouncing (and spelling in this case) "gizzards".

I absolutely LOVED the dialect! Especially the way they'd say "You'll come back now!"

Another Georgia specialty is boiled peanuts. You see the boiled peanut stands along the the country roads around the state.
If you're a genuine Southerner, you eat them shell and all!


Sorry to drag you through such a long post. That's why I'm saving my Appalachian adventure for the next round.

In the meantime, two parting shots - both advertising Coke using different venues.

First in Hapeville, near Atlanta:

Finally, this one, taken near Lexington, Georgia:. Don't you love the matching red roof?

3 comments:

Jill Lewis said...

Wow! You're going to make us all want to plan our own adventures there! What a fabulous place. Thanks for sharing all of these details! I'm glad you dashed away from the dogs and their owner-maybe he was busy eating his own possum and gizzad supper! Your description was too funny. I'm thrilled you were able to enjoy this exciting adventure!

Rachel said...

I have just loved going along with you on this journey and it points out to me that there is still so very much in my own country that I need to take in and visit!

So beautiful....... I just love old homes AND PORCHES!!!Lamenting the loss of front porches...... You can be sure, just as sure as the nose on the front of your beautiful face that I'll be having me a front porch put on the front of my house just as soon as I can..... and it will have rocking chairs and a porch swing cuz that was how I was growed up. With a big wrap around porch, a porch swing, and rockin' chairs..... which is how it is supposed to be!

K said...

I have read this through about three times. My g-g-g grandfather came from Washington County, GA. Moved to Alabama. Seeing your pictures, I'm not sure why anybody would want to move from that place. I do know that there's a lot of poverty in the deep south. And pockets where the light don't shine too deep. As I said, I've always wanted to go there and see the o=place for myself. But I know, if I did go, the world of my ancestors is long gone, and asphalt roads cover the ground my folks used to keep kitchen gardens on.

What a strange world that was - the big houses, the shanties. The privilege and society, the real world below. I imagine my folks were working people. But I don't know. Not shanty, but certainly not big house.

You are such a spirit - like the fairies, really - putting a girdle 'round the world in thirty minutes. Thank you for taking pictures. Thank you for taking me.

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